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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960375">with great power</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz'>xivz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action &amp; Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, American AU, Crime Fighting, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Gun Violence, High School, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Saving the World, School Dances, Secret Identity, SnowBaz, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Teenagers, hacker!Baz, hand holding, spider-man au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:53:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz/pseuds/xivz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“I’m Spider-Man,” Snow blurts.</em><br/> <br/><em>I stare at him, allowing the admission to fully sink in. “Are you serious? Because I was only eighty-four percent sure.”</em></p><p>—</p><p>It wasn’t as if Simon Snow <em>wanted</em> to be a superhero; he was just a normal boy until the spider bite. Now, he’s trying to foil his father’s plan of opening a hole through time and space in the middle of the city—and possibly killing the entire population to boot—all in the name of science.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ebeneza "Ebb" Petty &amp; Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce &amp; Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce &amp; Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>with great power</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally written for COBB 2020.</p><p>Big thank you to <strong><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux/pseuds/annabellelux">annabellelux</a></strong> &amp; <strong><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconelover/pseuds/sconelover">sconelover</a></strong> for being wonderful beta readers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>“Why does Baz always sit alone at lunch?” I ask Penny as my eyes wander to him. I can’t help it; I think I’m always watching him. I’ve been watching Baz since we were eleven and hated each other. We’ve grown up a lot since then, and I’ve come to the realization that hate isn’t the right word for how I feel. “Like, he has friends. He can sit with them, but he’s always alone.”</p><p>Baz is sitting in his usual spot, book propped open before him and earbuds in as he listens to music. No one bothers him, no one sits near him. He’s popular enough, so seeing him by himself every lunch period bothers me. It makes me want to get up and walk over to him, to plop down beside him. </p><p>I won’t, because whenever I’m around Baz I’ve gotten into the unfortunate habit of spewing random insect sex facts. (It’s terrible.) I’m one step away from dancing for him the way a male peacock spider does when it wants a mate. I wish I could be mortified by the thought, but the urge to do it just gets stronger. </p><p>“You’re not even listening!” Penny says, and I can tell she’s rolling her eyes despite not looking at her. “And you’ve reached your Baz quota, honestly, Simon. Your crush is disgusting and you should have just asked him out instead of agreeing to be Agatha’s date for the dance.”</p><p>“I panicked!” I say. “It’s not like I could have said ‘no’ to her, what if she asked Baz after she asked me and <em> he </em>said ‘yes’?” The thought of Agatha and Baz going together to the upcoming school dance causes my blood to boil. </p><p>“Well, Micah asked me,” Penny says, and she has a shy expression on her face. Which is unlike Penny, she’s usually bold and confident. It’s cute. “I told him I’d think about it.”</p><p>“Are you seriously playing hard to get?” I ask. </p><p>“Maybe I’ll ask Basil to be <em> my </em> date,” Penny says. </p><p>I shake my head but look back over at Baz, catching his eye and feeling my face heat up as he gives me his signature sneer. I want to kiss that look off of his face. Luckily, the bell rings, signalling the end of lunch, and it prevents me from doing something stupid like parkouring over the tables and landing perfectly in Baz’s lap. </p><p>“Do you want to come over later?” Penny asks. “My mom’s been asking if we’re even still friends.”</p><p>I wince. It’s been a while since I’ve been over to her house. I know that her mom doesn’t like me, so the question was probably asked hopefully. Still, her dad likes me, and her siblings aren’t too bad. I want to hang out with Penny after school; I miss just being able to chill. Instead, I shake my head. “Sorry, I’ve got my internship tonight.”</p><p>Penny narrows her eyes at me. This isn’t the first time I’m bailing on her, and it sucks, but what other choice do I have? “That internship takes up a lot of your time.”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” I laugh, “but it’ll look great on my college application.”</p><p>As if I’ll need it. My dad is so rich, I can probably afford to go to any school that I’m accepted into. There’s really no need to go above and beyond when one has the proper networking system to use. </p><p>Honestly, there is no internship.</p><p>The truth is, I’ve been Spider-Man for roughly two months now. </p><p>How I became Spider-Man is honestly a boring story. I was on a class field trip to my father’s company, Watford Inc., and got bitten by a radioactive spider. (Why my father has radioactive spiders is beyond me.) (What they could gain by experimenting with spiders is also beyond me.) </p><p>At first, the changes weren’t noticeable; it was during the winter holiday so I slept a lot, but I’m a teenage boy and that’s normal. I was eating more, but again, normal. My vision changed and I no longer needed my glasses—which was weird, but hormones can do that, right?</p><p>It wasn’t until I short-circuited an electrical outlet in my bedroom while trying to charge my phone did I realize that—hey, something wasn’t quite right. Because electricity shot out of my fingertips.  </p><p>Then I met Ebb. I want to say it was purely by accident, but it was my gut that led me to her. As soon as I ran into her, sirens seemed to go off in my head and I knew that she was like me. Ebb says that the gut thing is called a <em> Spidey-Sense. </em> (Which is stupid, but far be it from me to judge Spider-Woman. She’s been doing this for over twenty years.)</p><p>“Right,” Penny says, and I hate how disappointed she looks. “Maybe next time.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Come on, Spider-Man,” Ebb says as she swings toward Watford Inc. Her white and black costume is almost invisible this time of night. </p><p>Our costumes are similar in design. Ebb’s is all black with a white spider on the chest and white webbing all over, whereas mine is black with a deep red spider on the chest and red webbing. Our faces are kept covered by our masks, which can be a little stifling. It’s also snug on my shoulders and thighs, but it allows me to move so much better. Although, I learned early on that chaffing can and will occur unless I baby powder the joints.</p><p>Ebb's managed to pinpoint Watford Inc. as the source of all the strange earthquakes that we’ve been having lately. We’re thinking it’s some type of experiment gone wrong. I’ve learned a lot about my father and his company these last two months, and one of them was that they don’t necessarily do honest business. I wouldn’t put it past him to create something that could demolish the city and then sell it to the military. </p><p>I want to believe the best of my father, but I know him too well.</p><p>Watford Inc. is a company that specializes in science, technology, engineering and mathematics. A lot of its funding comes from the military. My father manufactures munitions, and I personally hate it.</p><p>We both land on the roof smoothly, just in time to feel the building rock as another earthquake happens.</p><p>Ebb motions for me to follow her to a vent hatch. “We’re going to have to crawl through the vents.”</p><p>Being Spider-Man isn’t all that it’s cut out to be. Vigilante work is thankless, the police hate you, the bad guys hate you and, honestly, most of it is surveillance. Which is boring.</p><p>Every once in a while, we get to do something cool, like infiltrate my father’s company</p><p>Ebb leads the way, and it feels like we’re crawling downwards forever before we finally reach the basement of the building. That’s another thing that no one tells you about in the daily life of a hero—you can’t just use the front door like a normal person.</p><p>It takes us a bit, but when we finally reach our destination, Ebb moves to the side so I can crawl up next to her and peer out of the grate. The room is white and massive. There’s a strange metal machine in the center, two tips glowing as the building shakes again. We can see the other side of the room where a glass window partitions off the room. There are people in there; I recognize Lamb, one of Watford Inc.’s best scientists. Baz thinks he’s a God; he nerds out over him constantly. I don’t like Lamb.</p><p>“Well, shit,” Ebb whispers, “it looks like they’re trying to start this collider.”</p><p>“What’s a collider?” I ask, shifting beside her. We’re both broad people, so it’s a tight squeeze.</p><p>“A type of particle accelerator which brings two opposing particle beams together so that the particles collide,” Ebb explains. “So basically…” She never makes me feel stupid for not knowing things, and I’m grateful. I’m not dumb, but I sometimes feel that Spider-Man would be better off with someone more intelligent in the suit. Like Baz, or Penny. “The question is, what are they doing with it?”</p><p>She wiggles backward and starts winding through the vents again, and I follow. As we near the lab I can hear voices echoing towards us, and Ebb waves me over to peer out through another grate in the ceiling. Beneath us is my father, pacing the room and looking agitated. His employees are giving him a wide berth.</p><p>“Sir,” Lamb is saying, “this is incredibly unstable, and it runs the risk of destroying the city.”</p><p>“What makes you think that I care about that?” My father says from where he stands across from Lamb. The harshness of his voice sets my teeth on edge. “Get this done!”</p><p>“Sir,” Lamb tries again, “it’s going to take us several weeks before the collider will be up and running properly.”</p><p>“You have one week,” my father says. “Do not think that you’re irreplaceable.”</p><p>It’s chilling, hearing him talk like this to people, seeing him work. I knew he was crooked, but not like this. I guess a part of me always thought that my father was a good man. David Snow, however, just loves to prove me wrong.</p><p>It’s a while before all of the scientists leave, probably hours. I think I doze off at one point. Ebb gently nudges me once the coast is clear.</p><p>“Alright, dove?” she asks.</p><p>I nod.</p><p>“That all sounded horrible,” Ebb says. “We’ll figure out how to stop this from happening without hurting anyone.”</p><p>I nod again. My life is a clusterfuck and now I’m worried that my dad is going to get home before I do and notice that I’m gone. Although, that’s highly doubtful—he doesn’t care that much. I don’t know which is worse.</p><p>I carefully pry the vent cover off and we hop down to the floor on silent feet. As we cross to the main computer, I can’t help but look over my shoulder, even though I know the room’s empty.</p><p>Ebb slips a thumb drive into her hand and starts hacking into the computer. She has so many skills like this, and it makes me realize I have so much to learn. </p><p>My heart is pounding and I keep jerking my head towards the door, waiting for someone to walk through. </p><p>It’s not adrenaline that’s causing this vigilance; it’s my gut. Someone is going to walk through that door soon. My Spidey-Sense works like that, foreshadows shit before it happens. I’ve learned to listen to it.</p><p>“Ebb,” I start to say, but she cuts me off. </p><p>“Just a moment.”</p><p>My anxiety is spiking now, and I want to grab her by the arm and throw her back up into the air vent. My heart is pounding in my ears.</p><p>Ebb puts the thumb drive in the computer and is downloading as many schematics as possible. I keep one eye on the door and scan the corners of the room.</p><p>Something is going to happen tonight. Something big. Something horrible. </p><p>"We should destroy the computers,” I say, keeping my voice low. We don’t have much time.</p><p>“We don’t have that much time,” Ebb says as if she can read my thoughts. “I’m almost done.”</p><p>“<em>Ebb</em>,” I start to warn.</p><p>“Done,” Ebb says as she tucks away her thumb drive.</p><p>Just in time for the doors to open and Lamb to walk through again.</p><p>My breath catches, but he looks thoroughly unsurprised.</p><p>“Spiders,” Lamb says with a heavy sigh, “I hope you know that I just contacted security and they’ll be here soon. With guns.”</p><p>He’s not lying. I can tell. We only have a minute, tops. We need to get out of here <em> now</em>.</p><p>Ebb comes up beside me, slipping the thumb drive into my hand and shoving me behind her. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”</p><p>I want to argue with her, but escaping now would be the only way for either of us to get out of here alive and with our identities safe. I crawl up into the vent and look down to see that Ebb has webbed Lamb to the wall. He looks undisturbed, almost bored.</p><p>I start crawling forward to give Ebb room to join when I hear the door open again.</p><p>“Spider-Woman,” my father greets coolly. My stomach drops. His footsteps aren’t the only ones that I hear, but there’s no way that I can turn around. </p><p>Ebb told me to go. I don’t ever disobey her; she always knows what she’s doing. It’ll only be a moment before she’s behind me.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>EBB</b>
</p><p>I’ve been Spider-Woman for twenty-six years now, and it’s never fun to be cornered like this.</p><p>I’m glad that Simon is leaving—I hope he’s leaving, I hope he gets out of here before Lamb tells everyone that Spider-Man is in the building. </p><p>Lamb has been my informant for months, and to find out that he’s double-crossed me doesn’t surprise me. </p><p>“I saw what you’re trying to do, Snow.” My voice is soft. “And I understand. It’s hard to lose a loved one–” I think of my own loss, of Nicky gone from this world and somewhere I couldn’t immediately follow after. </p><p>“You don’t know anything,” David spits.</p><p>“Lucy wouldn’t want you to destroy the city by bringing her back.”</p><p>“Her name should never escape from your mouth.” He sneers nastily at me, and I stare at his guards with their guns, and him with a gun in his hand. I dive to the floor. </p><p>I duck underneath David’s gun, kicking it out of his hand swiftly and shooting webs at his security guards. </p><p>Most of my moves involve my legs. I balance on my fingertips and let the kicks fly. There’s a move I developed early on that I call <em> Helter Skelter</em>, and it involves me twirling my body and kicking my legs in a running motion. It’s almost laughable how easy the guards are disarmed and taken down. Being a superhero for as long as I have, I’ve learned how to just allow my body to take control of the situation. </p><p>David, however, proves to be stronger than he looks. He lands a hard punch in my gut that leaves me winded. Still, I push through it and run towards the nearest wall, launching myself off it and drop-kicking him. He blocks with his forearms. </p><p>“Someone’s been learning self-defense,” I say, trying not to sound as if I’m panting. I think he bruised my ribs. I need to get out of here, but he’s directly under the open vent, deliberately blocking off my exit. I loosen my limbs and begin to kick him again, only to have him grab my ankle and slam me onto the ground, causing me to grunt as my skull bounces on the floor and I see stars.</p><p>This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be this powerful. I feel as if he’s modified himself somehow, probably done some sort of experiment to give himself superhuman strength.</p><p>I shoot a web at his face, and manage to wheeze out, “Have you been eating your wheaties?”</p><p>I kick his legs out from under him, and shoot a web onto his feet so that I can stand back up. He’s scrambling for his gun, which is just out of his reach, and I force myself to stand up, fighting off the nausea of an obvious concussion. </p><p>“Stay down,” I say to David, “I don’t want to hurt you.”</p><p>I use the last of my webbing and latch it onto the ceiling so that I can crawl up into the vent, but the sound of a gunshot causes me to freeze, and then I’m falling. I land in a heap on the floor, causing pain to shoot up my joints. My legs are numb, and even though I can’t feel it, I know he got me in the spine. </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” I hiss. </p><p>David is sitting up, his gun pointed at my head.</p><p>“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask him. I’m leaning heavily on my elbows to sit up. The rest of my body is unresponsive, and I can feel myself beginning to panic.</p><p>David is standing up now, kicking my webbing off of his feet. He’s towering over me, his eyes are expressionless. He’s looking at me as if I’m a bug that needs to be squashed. I’m out of web cartridge. I’m out of options.</p><p>He cocks his gun.  </p><p>There really is no way out of this. I always knew that this sort of lifestyle wouldn’t end pretty.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>I need to get myself and this thumb drive to safety. But even though I know I should be crawling away as fast as I can, I'm frozen to the spot, listening to what's happening in the room. Ebb is fighting, and making sassy remarks, and the sound almost calms me. </p><p>So, instead of focusing on what’s going on in the lab, I begin to crawl through the vent. Ebb gave me the thumb drive for a reason. I’m further away now and can barely hear the sounds of the fight. But suddenly, the hairs on the nape of my neck are on end and the air goes still. </p><p>My gut churns. I know what’s going to happen. I know, I <em> know! </em> And I can’t turn in time, I can’t jump out in time. I’m helpless. </p><p>The gunshots echo throughout the vent and ring loudly in my ears. I jump and stifle the urge to cry out. <em> No, no, no—Ebb! </em> Panic is creeping up to my chest and squeezing at my heart, but I can’t let it get to me. Instead, I force myself to push forward, to carry on.</p><p>“Spider-Man was here as well,” Lamb says after a moment’s pause.</p><p>“Smoke the vents,” dad says. “We’ll get him out.”</p><p>I want to scream, but I scramble faster. I know the layout of this building by heart; I practically grew up here. I can get out before they get to the roof or the lobby. I crawl through to the first floor and find a private restroom, where I planted a bag of clothes that I pull over my costume with shaking hands.</p><p>I throw on my hoodie, one with WATFORD emblazoned across the chest. I put the black book bag over my shoulders and place my access badge lanyard over my neck. </p><p>When I’m done getting dressed, the shock of what just happened finally catches up with me.</p><p>Ebb is dead.</p><p><em> My father killed her</em>.</p><p>I end up hunched over, dry heaving into the sink.</p><p>The thumb drive sits heavily in my front pocket and I splash my face with cool water, rinsing my mouth and blinking my eyes hard to prevent tears from falling. I can cry once I’m safe. Ebb would want me to be safe. </p><p>I can’t believe I left her, I can’t believe myself, who the fuck does that? I’ve never known myself to be a coward. </p><p>She died to make sure that I got out. So I’ll get out.</p><p>I’m trembling as I walk out of the restroom and toward the lobby. I look like the other IT interns making their way home. There are guards stationed all over the exits, but no one bats an eye at me. I’ve come to this building so often that I imagine I’m like a piece of furniture. They’re used to me.</p><p>No one stops me, but I know that I’ll have to hack into the surveillance cameras as soon as I get out of range to erase the fact that no one saw me go into the building. Ebb taught me how to do that. I can do that if nothing else. </p><p>I’m several blocks away when I turn into an alleyway and shove my clothes back into my bag, securing it over my shoulders and walking up the side of the building so that I can swing away. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that I need to go to Ebb’s place and take anything Spider-related out before my father does.</p><p>He killed her.</p><p>The hollowness in my chest isn’t something I can just push away. I’m shaking by the time I make it to Ebb’s, gently prying her bedroom window open and going to the loose floorboard under her bed to take her extra costume and web-shooters out.</p><p>My actions are mechanical. I take everything I can find, including a photo of her and me that she had framed in her living room. I pack everything and her laptop. My bag is significantly heavier, but at least Ebb’s stuff won’t wind up in the wrong hands.</p><p>Afterwards, I drift.</p><p>I’m on a fire escape when I come back to myself. Not my fire escape, but one that’s just as familiar. And then I find myself crying. Ugly sobs that wrack my body and make it difficult to breathe with the mask on. I’m hunched forward, with my head on my knees, practically wailing, not caring who hears me or sees me.</p><p>The window near the fire escape flies open and I hear her voice.</p><p>“I’ve got a baseball bat and I’m not afraid to use it!”</p><p>I hiccup and sniffle and then take my mask off, scrubbing at my face with my gloved hand. “Penny?”</p><p>“Simon?” Penny hisses, and suddenly she’s putting her baseball bat down and crawling out onto the fire escape with me. “Oh my God, you’re Spider-Man? Are you hurt? Is everything okay?”</p><p>I shake my head, but nothing is coming out of my mouth. I don’t know what to say. Instead, I blubber nonsense. </p><p>The grief I’m feeling is as heavy as the guilt. It’s my fault. I should have said something sooner, and I should have told Ebb that things weren’t going to turn out well for us if we had stayed. If she had stayed.</p><p>Penny has her arms around me. She’s in her pajamas and I smell her sage shampoo as her hair hits my cheek. I sob into her shoulder until I’ve got nothing left. I don’t say anything as she gives me a kiss on the temple and holds me together a way only Penny knows how to do. It feels like hours before she lets me go.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” She eventually asks, her voice hushed.</p><p>I shake my head. “I should get home,” I croak hoarsely. </p><p>“Okay,” Penny says softly as she moves away from me. She stays outside until I’ve swung far enough that I’m no longer visible to her.</p><p>Getting back home is easy. I take off my costume, stuff it in its hiding spot, and put on a pair of boxers. I’m too tired to bother showering, I’ll force myself to do that in the morning. Tears are silently trailing down my face as I curl up in bed. </p>
<hr/><p>My bedframe shaking wakes me up abruptly. </p><p>It’s Saturday. My eyes feel sticky and my head aches. Probably from dehydration.</p><p>The shaking stops as soon as I’m fully seated, and Ms. Possibelf pushes my door open to ensure that I’m safe.</p><p>“Oh good, I was worried that you were going to be crushed by your bookcase,” she says dryly. </p><p>Ms. Possibelf’s official title is my dad’s personal assistant, but really she’s my babysitter. She’s the one who makes sure that I do my homework and eat dinner and come home by curfew. My dad’s never around. Not since my mother died of cancer nearly a decade ago. I can almost remember my mom; she was all soft smiles and smelled of baked goods. Her hair was as curly as mine, and her eyes were the same shade of blue. I remember going with her to my grandmother’s a lot; we were always at my grandma’s. When mom died, dad forbade me from seeing grandma.</p><p>“Yeah,” I rasp, my throat is dry. Fuck, I went to Penny’s house. I cried. The lump in my throat is back and I want to cry more, but I swallow it down. There’s no time for it; Lamb was only given until the end of the week to start the collider. I only have that long to stop it.</p><p>I’m rubbing at my face, wishing that I could just crawl back under the covers and pretend that last night never happened. That today isn’t a new day. That Ebb is still alive. I wonder what they did with her body. The thought makes my stomach churn.</p><p>“I have breakfast ready for you,” Ms. Possibelf says before leaving me to get ready for the day.</p><p>I’m not hungry. The nausea is too strong for food, but I’ll comply. If I don’t, she’ll think I’m sick and she’ll tell my father. Then everyone will wonder if something's wrong. Remaining inconspicuous is a big part of being a superhero.</p><p>Fuck, I just feel like I’m <em> playing </em>at being a superhero. I’m just a kid who wears a costume at night and runs around the city, playing make-believe.</p><p>My cell phone buzzes from where it’s charging. Penny’s name flashes on the screen and she's sent me a text telling me to meet her at the city library because we’d get more privacy to talk there than if we were at either of our homes. She tells me to bring the laptop and thumb drive, but she doesn’t give any other details. </p><p>Penelope is my best friend and one of the smartest people that I know, so I think she figures that our phones could be bugged. Who knows? I don’t know anything anymore. My father murdered my mentor in cold blood, and she hadn’t even been a threat. Not really. Not alone.</p><p>I respond to her before showering and getting dressed in track shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing fancy—it’s almost summer so the weather is hot and I’m both looking forward to and dreading summer vacation. What could I do on my own? I barely know how to use my powers.</p><p>I try not to gag as I brush my teeth. I just have to take care of this—take care of this for Ebb and pray that it’s enough to ease my feelings. It won’t be; nothing will ever be enough.</p><p>Ms. Possibelf has fresh scones, eggs, and bacon ready for me. I eat my usual amount, feeling it all land like lead in my stomach.</p><p>“I’m going to hang out with Penny,” I say to her as she clears my plate and cup off of the table. Being waited on makes me highly uncomfortable, but it’s her job. When I was smaller I’d fight her about it, try to do my own dishes and make my own bed, but when I overheard my father was about to sack Ms. Possibelf over it, I stopped.</p><p>“Be safe,” she says to me as I leave.</p><p> </p><p><b>BAZ</b> </p><p>I work at the library part-time, not because I need to but because I want to. I enjoy the ambience, and being surrounded by books. Sadly, libraries aren’t quite as popular as the local bookshops—probably due to the library’s lack of a café and high-speed wifi—but that’s alright with me. </p><p>Saturdays are usually the busiest day of the week, which means that I’m left shelving my entire shift. Which is no issue; it’s better than trying to help customers. The thing about shelving is that I tend to hear a lot of conversations that aren’t meant for me. People can be careless about things like that. It’s typically petty gossip, except today as I’m going through the stacks, I spy Simon Snow and Penelope Bunce, two of my classmates. </p><p>They’re hunched over a laptop together, hissing in not-so-quiet whispers. </p><p>“This is deeply coded,” Bunce says while chewing on the end of her pen. “Are you sure you don’t have any ideas?”</p><p>Snow is tugging at his luscious curls and bouncing his knee. He looks like shit, like he hasn’t slept in days, and yet I still find him attractive. (I'm weak for him.) “No, I don’t know.” </p><p>“We’ll figure this out,” Bunce assures him. </p><p>“Pen,” Snow says as he shakes his head and continues to tug on his hair, “we have maybe a week before the city is possibly destroyed. We don’t exactly have time.”</p><p>Wait. <em> What</em>?</p><p>“What the hell are you two doing?” I can’t help but ask, coming out from behind a shelf that I just finished. The two of them are tucked away in an isolated corner, and probably thought that they were safe from prying eyes or listening ears. </p><p>Both of them jump and look guiltily at me before realizing that it’s <em> only me </em> and manage to calm down. </p><p>“Fuck, Basilton, give someone a heart attack, why don’t you?” Bunce asks while her hand rests on her bosom. “Do you often just eavesdrop and pop out of random hiding spots like that? It’s no wonder everyone thinks you’re strange.”</p><p>“Yet I remain the top of our class, regardless of the nasty rumors that follow me,” I sneer at her. </p><p>Snow is chewing on his cuticles now, knee still bouncing, and his curls in a frizzy disarray.  </p><p>“I work here,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Why are you two doing talking about destroying the city? I hadn’t realized terrorism was something you’ve been considering lately. Is this an extra credit assignment?” I’m being an ass, but sarcasm is always my default and I’m not about to stop just because their conversation startled me.</p><p>“Well, it’s just a computer game that we’re playing,” Bunce says with a thoughtless shrug. It’s a lie, and I know this because she’s a horrible liar. She doesn’t have the face for it.</p><p>“Pen,” Snow intervenes, “stop. He’s too smart for that.”</p><p>“Doth my ears deceive me?” I feel myself arch a brow as I peer down into his dull blue eyes. “Snow, giving me a compliment? Has hell frozen over? No weirdly specific insect mating facts today?”</p><p>The harshness of my tone diminishes as soon as I get a good look at him. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and his nose is red, as if he’s spent the last several hours crying. My stomach clenches uncomfortably at the sight. I want to comfort him, to reach out and soothe his hair and perhaps even give him a hug. Which would be a fantasy, because Snow seems to think I’m some nefarious Disney villain while he’s the golden boy hero.</p><p>“Can you sit for a moment?” Snow asks, and the seriousness of his tone throws me off. He’s usually a bumbling mess around me. All false-starts and half-stutters. I’m not sure what to do with him sounding this morose and exhausted.</p><p>There’s no pressing work that needs to get done at the moment, and no one else is on this floor aside from the three of us. I slowly make my way to the other side of the small round table. </p><p>I have my suspicions on what the two of them have been up to, especially Snow. He’s been disappearing at odd times during the school day recently, and sometimes appearing with bruises that look exceedingly painful. At first I worried that he was being physically abused at home, but then other circumstances continued to fall into play—like the time our school bus nearly fell off of a bridge during one of the earthquakes. Snow and I managed to get everyone off the bus, but not before I noticed the webbing holding it up from the doom of its inevitable impact with the choppy waters below.</p><p>“Look,” Snow says while jutting his chin out at me, “you’re one of the smartest people that I know, and I know you do hacking for fun–”</p><p>“You can’t prove that,” I cut in. Although both he and Bunce give me a knowing look, they’re probably recalling the time I hacked into the school’s broadcast system to play the Frozen soundtrack on loop all day. The morning announcements that day had to be over intercom, and the administration had been out for blood. I, thankfully, have never been caught.</p><p> “–so do you think you can get into this laptop?” Snow asks, disregarding my interruption. </p><p>“Why should I?” I ask. It’s probably a simple encryption that prevents people from looking into it, nothing that I can’t get into. “Tell me why you need me to do this and I’ll consider it. Make your lie worth my while, Snow.”</p><p>“Really?” Bunce asks with the beginning of a sneer on her face. “As if we’re going to tell y—”</p><p>“I’m Spider-Man,” Snow blurts at the same time. </p><p>I stare at him, allowing the admission to fully sink in. “Are you serious? Because I was only eighty-four percent sure.”</p><p>“Simon!” Bunce looks scandalized, “you just <em> tell </em> him? You didn’t even tell me, your <em> best friend</em>, I had to find out in a traumatic way, but you just <em> tell Basil? </em> Of all people?”</p><p>“We can trust Baz,” Snow says. </p><p>Bunce snorts.</p><p>“Oh?” I ask. “I thought I was always the bad guy? Always plotting?”</p><p>“You <em> are </em>always plotting,” Snow rubs at his face, he suddenly looks so much older than seventeen. “But it’s usually stupid pranks, nothing awful. You don’t purposely hurt people. Baz, please, I need help.” His voice hitches and his eyes become wet. </p><p>Something has happened to him recently, something terrible. He’s always been emotional and a bit of a crybaby, but it’s never been like this. My heart aches at the sight of it. I don’t ask what’s wrong or what happened; he won’t tell me, anyway. Instead I take the laptop and turn it my way. </p><p>“And this too,” Snow says,handing me a thumb drive. </p><p>I sneer down at it, it’s bright pink. “You want me to hack into the goober too?”</p><p>“The what?” Bunce and Snow ask at once. </p><p>I roll my eyes at them. “There’s always a bypass key, a virus key, a who-cares key. I can never remember, so I always call it a goober. Give it.”</p><p>“It has information on a collider that I have to destroy,” Snow says as his Adam’s apple bobs ridiculously. </p><p>“Of course it does,” I say before standing. I place the thumb drive into my front pocket and tuck the laptop under my arm.</p><p>“You better not be fucking with us, Basil,” Bunce says. “If you’re not going to seriously help, I’ll castrate you.”</p><p>The look on her face promises that she’ll make good on her threat. </p><p>“Relax, Bunce. Come to my house tomorrow around noon, I’ll have all of your information then.” I say with an eye roll.</p><p>Because it’s the right thing to do. Helping Spider-Man, helping Snow, possibly saving some lives. It all sounds insane, as if my life has been thrust into the middle of a comic book. One where I’m The Guy in the Chair™ (although Bunce would probably fight me for that title.)</p><p>When I get off of work I immediately head home. I’m so curious about the computer that I forget anything else I may have wanted to do with my Saturday afternoon. </p><p>I change into a simple t-shirt and joggers, piling my hair back into a ponytail and taking my contacts out before sliding my glasses on. I ensure that I have my sea salt and vinegar chips and a beverage before cracking my knuckles and getting to work. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>I’m nervous as I ring the bell to the Grimm-Pitch house. Penny couldn’t make it; her mom's forcing her to do some family activity. I can’t be angry about that, that’s normal life stuff. It’s Sunday. It’s the day for brunch or family time, not that I have any of that with my dad. </p><p>Baz opens the door and I freeze, my insides fluttering. </p><p>The thing about Baz is that he always looks good, no matter what. Today he’s got his hair down waving against his face, and is wearing a pullover sweater, jeans and–</p><p>“Baz,” I stare stupidly, “you’re–you’re wearing <em> glasses</em>.”</p><p>Large wire-framed ones that take up nearly all of his face. I’ve never seen them and I’ve known Baz since we were eleven. They look good. Of course they do. Everything looks good on him and I hate it.</p><p>He frowns at me. “Where’s your smarter half?”</p><p>I let his comment slide as he allows me into his house. He’s not wearing shoes, and the sight of his socked feet makes me feel uncomfortable. But I take off my beat-up Converse and follow him upstairs. The house is quiet, so I can assume no one else is home. We'll have privacy, which makes me even more nervous. </p><p>“She has a family thing today,” I say.</p><p>Fuck, I’m in Baz’s bedroom. I wipe my suddenly clammy hands on my jeans and sit at the edge of his made bed as he sits on an expensive-looking ergonomic desk chair. There’s two empty bags of chips in the trash can beside his desk and some empty Monster cans. </p><p>His bedroom in general isn’t exactly what I expected. He has a wall of shelves with books and random Funko Pop figurines and both music and sports awards. There are framed band posters against the same wall as his headboard. It’s clean, but feels like a teenager’s room. I expected a bed with gargoyles carved into it and heavy drapes over the windows. Something that reflects more of a vampire-goth type lifestyle. </p><p>“Did you sleep last night?” I ask him. </p><p>“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Baz says as he turns on the laptop. “What I found out is dangerous shit, Snow. We could both be killed for this. I had to erase the old IP address after downloading everything. After thoroughly researching all of the provided data, I’ve managed to create a virus that could shut down the collider.”</p><p>“Wait,” I stare at him, “<em>what?</em>”</p><p>“Did I stutter?” Baz sneers at me before scooting his chair so that I could have a better look at what he’s pulled up. “Whatever this collider is, it’s messing with quantum physics. The very reality of our timeline will be torn apart. It’s unstable, and the explosion that follows will be catastrophic. Not only will the city be affected, but possibly the entire country, or even the world.”</p><p>His gaze is on me now, and I see the dark shadows under his eyes and the beginning of stubble along his jawline. He stayed up all night to do this for me, or at least for the city, because Baz understands how important this is. </p><p>“And the virus should shut it down?” I ask him while leaning forward so my elbows can rest on my knees. </p><p>Baz nods. “It should cause the machine to explode. I have the schematics of the collider here.” He’s typing something else on the keyboard, his fingers moving so fast that they’re practically a blur. “Look, there’s a direct panel. If you can get into the room with the machine you can plug in the goober and it should shut it down, and you’ll have maybe ten minutes to get out of the building.”</p><p>“Holy shit, Baz,” I say as I look at him. “You really are a genius.”</p><p>“Obviously,” Baz says. He shifts so that his chair is facing me, raking a hand through his hair and narrowing his gaze. “This computer, who does it belong to? There’s a lot of information on here regarding various companies and crooked deals and schedules for certain drop offs. It’s honestly a good thing that you brought it to me and that it didn’t get into the hands of someone who could do serious damage.”</p><p>I swallow uselessly and nod at him. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Snow,” Baz starts to say, but I cut him off with a shrug and can feel my face crumpling.</p><p>“Fuck,” I say as I rub the palms of my hands over my eyes, “it belonged to Ebb. She was– she was Spider-Woman. She–she–<em>fuck </em>.”</p><p>“She died?” His voice is low and soft and so entirely unlike anything I’ve ever heard from Baz that it makes me hurt. </p><p>I nod. “Yeah. My–my father–” I’m choking on my words. I can feel the hollowness in my chest cave in and bile threatening to come up and suffocate me.</p><p>“Breathe, Snow.” Baz is suddenly there, forcing my head between my knees and rubbing my back is soft circles. </p><p>I’m trying to focus on five things that are around me. Something that keeps everything real. This was a trick Ebb taught me early on for when things become overwhelming for me. Baz’s hand is cool through my t-shirt; his knee is touching mine; his room smells of his cologne and it’s heady; the room is warm due to the sunlight coming through the window; and his socks have black cats as a pattern on them. I breathe and hold and exhale. </p><p>“Sorry,” I mumble as I sit back up, and try not to think about how close we are to each other. I scoot away a little, my face feeling hot. “I don’t know what to do with the laptop.”</p><p>“Snow,” Baz starts, but stops again, he sighs. “Alright, I’ll keep it and see if there's anything else on here. For now, you’ve got to get the goober into the machine.” He gives me Ebb’s pink thumb drive. “And soon.”</p><p>I open my mouth to say something when the sound of the front door opening causes both of us to freeze. </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Baz says, “you’re not supposed to be here. As idiotic as it is, I’m not allowed to have boys in my room without the door open, and definitely not without an adult here.”</p><p>“What?” I ask. “My shoes are by the front door!”</p><p>“Fuck,” he says again. “Wait here, I’ll get your shoes.”</p><p>“What am I supposed to do then?” I hiss at him. Whatever mood the two of us were in earlier dissipates quickly. </p><p>“You’re Spider-Man, yeah? Climb out the window and walk down the side of the house.” </p><p>“Basil!” Someone calls from downstairs. </p><p>“Coming!” Baz says before giving me a warning look and leaving me alone in his bedroom.</p><p>I glance around at the books on his shelf. The small rainbow flag next to his book collection causes me to do a double-take. </p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>“Here,” Baz says a few minutes later as he re-enters the room with my shoes. </p><p>“Thank you,” I say as I slip them on. “Before I go, do you think you can make me more of these?” I rummage around my bookbag for the spare web-shooter cartridge that I took from Ebb’s place. </p><p>“What is this?” he asks as he opens his palm for me to drop it into. Our hands brush briefly before I’m pulling away, suddenly extremely aware of my body. He turns the small white pill over a few times with his long fingers. </p><p>“This is my web cartridge,” I say. “Contrary to urban legend, I don’t make webs on my own.”</p><p>“Fascinating,” Baz says, and he truly sounds interested. “Do you know what this is made of?”</p><p>I duck my head and shake it, worrying my lower lip as I peek back up at him through my lashes. “I know that it’s similar to nylon and on contact with air, the long-chain polymer knits and forms an extremely tough, flexible fiber with extraordinary adhesive properties. But I honestly have no clue what it’s made of.”</p><p>“So I have to figure it out myself.” Baz frowns at me. </p><p>“There might be information on the computer,” I shrug. </p><p>“I’m not a fucking wizard,” he says, but he’s still holding on to the cartridge. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yeah,” I say while opening his window and crawling over the ledge. I crouch on the outside so I can peek in. “Thank you Baz, really. This is a lot of help.”</p><p>“Please don’t be soft with me,” Baz says, but it doesn’t come out as harshly as he probably wants it to. </p><p>“See you tomorrow,” I say.</p><p>I leave before he can get another word in, and I know he hates that. He always has to have the last word. </p><p>I’m crawling my way up to his roof and then running rooftop to rooftop until I hit the house at the end of the block. I do a needless flip and land perfectly on my feet on the concrete. A few kids across the street whoop and clap at the show I just gave them, and I smile and give a little wave before jogging away from Baz’s street entirely. He made me a virus strong enough to destroy the collider. Now I just have to figure out when I’ll be able to get back into Watford Inc. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>PENNY</b>
</p><p>“Why is he sitting with us?” I ask curiously, not because I dislike Basil—–I find him just as smart as I am and I have a few classes with him so I know that we get along well—but last I checked, Simon could barely form a sentence around him. </p><p>“Hello to you too, Bunce,” Baz says while opening his bookbag and taking out his lunch. Of course he doesn’t eat what the school provides. He takes what looks to be a vegetarian summer roll out of a tupperware dish. “I’m vegan,” he says after noticing me staring at his food. </p><p>“Oh,” I say, “that makes sense, you look like a vegan.”</p><p>“How does one <em> look </em>like a vegan?”</p><p>“He’s sitting with us because three brains are better than two,” Simon says while taking a bite of his lunch. He has both a school lunch and one from home. He says that his metabolism is fast, and if he’s got superpowers then I suppose that’s true. He probably burns calories like crazy. </p><p>“My dad has maps of the city,” I say casually while picking at my sandwich. “He works for the sanitation department, you know?”</p><p>I’m highly aware that we’re in a crowded cafeteria, and there can be listening ears. It’s not exactly a private location.</p><p>“Fascinating,” Baz drawls before taking a bite of his food. Unlike Simon, he’s eating at a slow pace and chews fully before swallowing. Is this what it’s like to sit with someone with manners? “You should email those to me.”</p><p>“Or give you a goober?” I tease. </p><p>Baz smirks at me and Simon eyes the two of us suspiciously before turning his attention to me. </p><p>“What’s this have to do with anything?” he asks between drinking his milk and shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. </p><p>Baz sneers at him, but I ignore it. I’ve sat with Simon at lunch for years; you kind of become immune to it after a while. Or maybe it’s that I just don’t care enough to say anything about his table manners to begin with. There are more important things in the world. (Like helping Spider-Man save lives!)</p><p>“Well, you said that you’re going to visit your dad today, right?” I ask carefully, maintaining eye contact so Simon knows exactly what I’m saying. When he nods, I continue. “I know a different way to get to the building. A shortcut.”</p><p>Through the sewers. He’d be unexpected that way. </p><p>Simon is leaning forward, fully attentive when he suddenly shifts back and looks to his right. Agatha is heading to our table, and it’s like Simon knew she was going to make an appearance before she even decided to. Is that part of his superpowers?</p><p>“Hi Simon.” Agatha smiles. She’s pretty, like one of those girls that others can’t stand because of it. But then she’s also unflappably nice to people, and it’s almost like she thinks that her smile and kind words are a gift to give others. Her brown eyes swivel around our table, but her smile remains. “Hello Basilton, Penelope.”</p><p>She also thought, until last year, that Simon and I were a couple. Which is disgusting and stupid. Honestly, I’m not the one at the table she should be worried about. </p><p>“Hey Aggie,” Simon says while smiling sweetly up at her. </p><p>Baz frowns at him before catching my eye and then focusing back down at his food. </p><p>“I just want you to know that the dress I’ll be wearing on Friday is pink,” Agatha says, “so your tie can match.”</p><p>“Oh!” Simon’s smile briefly wavers and his ears turn red. “Right! That’s good.”</p><p>“See you later.” Agatha waves at all of us and goes back to her table of beautiful and popular girls. Minty, Ginger, and Phillipa. (Pretty girls with horrible names if you ask me.)</p><p>As soon as she’s out of ear range, Simon slams his palm to his forehead. “Fuck.”</p><p>“I take it you forgot,” I say, finishing up my food. </p><p>Simon shrugs. </p><p>Baz scoffs. “Martin Potts asked me to go with him to the dance, as his date.”</p><p>This causes Simon’s gaze to swivel over to him, blue eyes narrowing. “Oh? I didn’t realize he was your type.”</p><p>“You know nothing, Simon Snow,” Baz says. </p><p>“Well, did you say ‘yes’ to Martin?” Simon asks, shifting so that he’s facing Baz now. </p><p>I take a quiet bite of my food, watching this all unfold. “Martin is sweet, but aesthetically he would be a step down from Rhys,” I say.</p><p>“<em>Rhys</em>? <em> ” </em> Simon repeats incredulously. “The guy who looks like a <em> supermodel </em>?”</p><p>Baz tucks some errant strands of his long hair behind his ear. “My ex, Snow.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” </p><p>As entertaining as this is, the amount of testosterone in the air is stifling, and it looks as if my best friend is about to combust.</p><p>“Did you seriously date Rhys?” Simon asks. “When did this happen? How did I not know?”</p><p>Baz gives a little half shrug. “How did I not know that you’re dating Wellbelove?”</p><p>“What? But–no, it’s not–you don’t–”</p><p>I roll my eyes and say, “Can we please get back to the task at hand?”</p><p>They at least have the decency to look sheepish. </p><p>“I’ll try again tonight,” Simon says, polishing off both of his plates at once. </p><p>“Is it wise to try again so soon?” Baz asks as he packs his things away. </p><p>“We have less than a week,” Simon says. “What do you recommend that I do?”</p><p>“Think of a better plan than going in with guns blazing?” Baz says, but there's a terseness to his voice now. He’s trying not to start an argument.</p><p>“I don’t think they’d expect me back so soon. Not after everything that went down on Saturday.” </p><p>“Let me think of a plan first,” I say. </p><p>“While you think of one, I’m going to try again tonight.” Simon’s hair is beginning to frizz on end. He told me that happens when things get to be overwhelming sometimes. He’s jut his chin out, and I know that it’s the end of the discussion for now. </p><p>He still hasn’t told me what occurred this last weekend that ended with him outside of my window late at night. Simon isn’t exactly the best at hiding his emotions. Which makes me worry about him even more now. He’s living in the same house as the man who has a machine that can kill thousands of people within minutes. And as much as I want to say that his father won’t hurt him, I’m terrified for Simon’s wellbeing. </p><p>“You’re so fucking unbelievably stubborn,” Baz sneers while standing up and leaving our table. </p><p>“What the fuck?” Simon says as he watches him go.</p><p>I shake my head, “you’re going to do what you want, but don’t die. I’ll think of something.”</p><p>There’s no one to protect him–not that he needs it, but I can’t help but want to be the one who does it. Everyone deserves someone who loves them enough to look out for them regardless of the circumstance. Simon has me. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>I love swinging from building to building. I love running along walls and diving from high-rises while landing on buses or catching myself last minute. It’s the best part of the gig. The super strength, psychic abilities, and electrical powers are great, but nothing beats being in the air. I feel free up here. </p><p>I kind of wish that I could fly, that I was more like Superman (although he’s just a comic book character—no such thing as a real life one. Sadly. He’d be dead useful. Imagine being impervious to bullets, that'd be—I need to stop this train of thought.)</p><p>Just something about free-falling and allowing my heart to race makes me feel <em> alive </em>. On a good day I’ll just do random flips onto trains and buses and buildings. As it is now, I’m swinging my body and enjoying the mild burn it leaves in my arms, in my sides, my stomach muscles held taut with each movement, my legs drawn up. </p><p>I land on top of the Watford building easily, but instead of shimmying through the vents again, because they’re probably expecting that, I open the door that leads to the helicopter pad on the roof. There’s no one guarding it, which is surprising to me. I have a bad feeling that I can't quite shake. There’s a high chance I’ll be caught, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe I should have waited until Penny and Baz came up with a better idea. Maybe for my next attempt. (Although I hope there’s not a next attempt. I just want this to be done and over with.)</p><p>It’s not hard to break into the security room on the top floor. The guards weren’t even expecting it—I knock them out and then web them to the wall. The string should dissolve within the next two hours, and I’ll be long gone by then. When I was younger, I thought all the security was to protect all the tech and important scientific breakthroughs. Now I think it’s because my dad’s a paranoid asshole. </p><p>I need to dismantle the security system, but I’m not a computer whiz like Baz. I hardly know what the fuck I’m doing, and it’s frustrating. I rip one of the screens off of the wall and use my electric touch to fry the circuit. Luckily it doesn’t cause a fire of any sort, but it does cause the entire system to shut down and the fire alarms to suddenly blare. </p><p>“Fuck!” I haul myself up to the nearest vent and begin crawling as fast as I can towards the lab. So much for the direct approach; someone is bound to go into that room and notice that Spider-Man was there. I’m such an idiot. </p><p>It doesn’t take as long as the last time to find the collider. The lab is empty, and the red lights and alarm are louder here in the enclosed space. I wonder if everyone’s evacuated—if people thought there was an actual fire. That would be useful. It wouldn’t be the first time a plan that goes haywire works out well for me. </p><p>I know I won’t be alone once I get to the lab; I can sense someone else there. I still move forward, and am unsurprised to see Lamb. </p><p>“I figured it was you,” he says. His white lab coat is tight across his shoulders as he shifts to take it off. He pushes the goggles hanging around his neck up to his eyes, and that’s when I notice the chest piece attached across his torso and the four long tentacles that retract and expand as needed. They’re longer than his body—they look like like mechanical arms and are pushing him off of the ground and into the air. “Unfortunately, I can’t allow you to escape this time, my friend.”</p><p>I can feel my blood boiling. “You and I <em> aren’t </em>friends. And what the fuck is that on your back? Figured you’d turn yourself into an octopus? Do the arms make you feel like a bigger man? Make up for your other shortcomings?”</p><p>“An octopus?” Lamb nods to himself. “Doctor Octopus? No, Doc Ock. Sounds like a good villain name, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you, Lamb.” I’m lying through my teeth. I want nothing more than to punch him in his handsome face. Ebb had said that he had been her informant, but he had also been the one to alert everyone she was here that night. </p><p>“The thing is, Simon.” Lamb saying my real name causes me to jolt. “I realize that you’re the Kingpin’s son, and I don’t want to kill you, but I do value my life more than yours and would prefer you out of the way—you can understand that.”</p><p>One of his tentacles suddenly swings at me, all strong titanium and sharp edges. I manage to catch it; my senses are on high alert and for good fucking reason. </p><p>I try to flip away from him and gain enough momentum to throw myself at him. but his arms are lightning fast, and he doesn’t stay still long enough for me to get my hand on his metal appendage and electrocute him. </p><p>“Weren’t you the one who <em> warned </em> Ebb?” I try to swing away, only to have my web cut by one of his arms, causing me to fall to the floor and roll away. “Six arms against two? Not fair!”</p><p>I shoot webbing at him as I dodge yet another arm. This fight is going nowhere. I’ll have to let him pin me; that’s the only way I’ll be able to even touch him. </p><p>I flip myself up and crawl across the ceiling, barely managing not to get skewered, and I’m about to reach for his back when he suddenly grabs my ankle and slams me onto the ground. </p><p>“Things change,” Lamb says as I grunt with the impact. “And I think I’ve made quite the scientific breakthrough in these last few days. It’ll work amazingly. Imagine how this can change the world?”</p><p>He’s off his rocker. </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” I gasp out, struggling to free my foot. I lean forward, practically bending in half, and allow electricity to flow from my hands into his tentacle. </p><p>It doesn’t do anything. </p><p>My momentary surprise gives him an opening to grab me by the arm as well, and he’s pulling me apart to the point where I feel like my joints are going to pop out of their sockets. <em> Fuck fuck fuck</em>, it hurts and I’m struggling. </p><p>He lets go of my leg and lifts me easily by the wrists, and I fight futilely against his grasp. I can lift a city bus without getting winded, yet I can’t pull out of his grip. “What are these made of?”</p><p>Lamb grins at me as he slams me against the nearest wall by the wrists. He brings his body closer to me, but not close enough for me to headbutt him or kick him. <em> Think, Simon, think! </em></p><p>“Now this is where I have to hurt you, unfortunately,” he says, although his tone holds no remorse. And I suddenly remember how much I loathe his fucking face. </p><p>I don’t think, I just act. I’m a creature of instinct. I bring my legs up to my right arm and slam all of my weight down on the tentacle, snapping it in half. I free my hand enough to shoot webbing in Lamb’s face, causing him to stagger away from me, clawing to take his stupid goggles off. </p><p>I’m hanging by one arm and feel the distinct burning <em> pop </em> of my shoulder dislocating as I manage to wrangle myself free. My left arm is dangling awkwardly and uselessly, but I manage to get myself into the open vent and drag myself away to safety. As I crawl, bleeding profusely from where Lamb’s claw-like tentacle hand sliced into my forearm, I realize that I’m just leaving a trail of DNA behind me. Fuck.</p><p>I make it to the roof and hiss as I use some of my web to sling my left arm across my chest. I don’t have time to pop it back into the joint. I have to get to safety. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>The timid knock on my window causes me to jolt awake. I fell asleep while reading, my face flat on my book, drool pooling a little on the pages and my glasses skewed on my face. My alarm clock tells me that it’s just after midnight. </p><p>The knocking continues. My bedroom is on the second floor, and I’m rubbing at my face when it dawns on me that only one person can truly get up here with no difficulty. </p><p>I’m at my window before I’m fully awake, flinging it open and coming face-to-face with Spider-Man, and I feel my heart almost stop. His mask is black with red webbing and large white eyes, and the rest of his costume follows, with a red spider on the center of his chest like some sort of target. </p><p>Then I realize that one of his arms is slung up carelessly by a web and that he’s trembling where he’s hanging off the side of the house. Without thinking, I grab his good arm and haul him into my bedroom.</p><p>“What the fuck happened to you?” I ask, making sure to keep my voice low in case anyone else is awake. My parent’s room is down the hall and my sister is right next door. Maybe I should ask my father if I can move my bedroom to the basement for more privacy. There’s a door down there that leads to the driveway; it’ll make it easier to sneak superheroes into my room. </p><p>He hisses and sits on the floor under my window. He begins to tear off the pieces of web and I watch as it seems to float to the ground lightly, as if made of air. I want to touch the fiber to get a better idea of what it’s made of, but I’m more concerned over the fact that Snow’s arm seems to be hanging limply by his side and that he’s <em> bleeding</em>.</p><p>“Fight,” Snow answers while taking his mask off. He’s got a purple bruise on his left cheekbone. </p><p>“You should be at a hospital,” I say as I kneel down beside him. The skin of his left arm looks as if it’s attempting to heal itself, so the blood is sluggish and thick. “I don’t think we even own a first aid kit.”</p><p>I want to ask him why he came here and not to Bunce's. But I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth; he feels safe with me and that means something. </p><p>“Can you pop my shoulder back into place?” Snow asks through clenched teeth. “My hand’s starting to go numb.”</p><p>“Fuck, you’re going to need stitches, Simon.” I’m freaking out, but I don’t think he realizes that. I take my phone from where it’s charging and call the only person I can think to help off the top of my head, all the while keeping an eye on the boy on my floor who looks on the verge of unconsciousness. </p><p>My house is pitch black and quiet, and I’m nervous that I’ll get caught and in trouble for what I’m about to do. </p><p>I sneak my way down the stairs and to the back door before I hear a gentle tap on it. </p><p>“Thank you so much for coming over like this,” I whisper. </p><p>Agatha Wellbelove is giving me an annoyed look, and I don’t blame her. She’s in a crop top and tights, blond hair up in a sloppy bun and what looks to be a retainer in her mouth—obviously her pajamas. In her hand is her father’s traveling medical bag. </p><p>“I’m not a doctor,” she hisses, her words thickly lisped. Still, she follows me back up to my bedroom. I can appreciate how she hardly asks any questions and just goes with it, though I suppose she’s aware enough to realize that I wouldn’t have called her if it weren’t an emergency. </p><p>We get to my room and I watch as she immediately slaps a hand over her mouth to prevent a sound of alarm. </p><p>Simon Snow is sitting on my bedroom floor, naked from the waist up, poking at his limp arm. His costume leaves very little to the imagination, and as inappropriate as it is, I can feel the blood rushing to a very distinct area of my body. Shit, I hadn’t realized that this is what he looks like shirtless. </p><p>“Oh my God,” Wellbelove whispers. “You need to go to the hospital!”</p><p>“Can’t,” Snow says. “Can someone please pop my shoulder back in?”</p><p>“Do you have a leather belt?” Wellbelove asks me as she puts her father’s bag down. </p><p>It startles me into movement and I retrieve one of my belts from my closet. She takes it from me and folds it in half, practically shoving it into Snow’s face. </p><p>“Bite down on this, it’s going to hurt a little.” Wellbelove orders him before turning to me. “You’re helping me do this.”</p><p>I never in my life thought that I would learn how to pop a shoulder back into its socket. Until a petite blond girl forced me to. My poor belt doesn’t look as if it’s going to last between Snow’s teeth. His face is pinched into a pained grimace and his face is flushed, the veins on his throat prominent as he swallows down whatever noise he wants to make.</p><p>I leave the two of them briefly to retrieve some ice as Wellbelove begins to sew stitches into Snow’s arm where it was bleeding. The sight of the needle going into his skin makes me feel nauseous. </p><p>When I return with an ice pack, Wellbelove is placing gauze over the stitches. Her small hands are gloved and nimble, not a hint of nerves showing. I envy her that. I feel as if I’m about to fall apart. </p><p>Without asking for permission, I place the ice back on Snow’s bare shoulder, holding onto his back with my free hand as balance. </p><p>“You said you were in a fight,” I begin, but am cut off my Wellbelove. </p><p>“Nope.” She shakes her head, “I'm not listening to this, and I’m not getting involved. I’m not even here. This never happened. I’m not some back alley doctor, I’m studying to be a vet when I get older. Jesus, let’s never do this again. The less I know, the better.”</p><p>“My apologies,” I say to her. </p><p>“Alright,” Snow says, taking my belt out of his mouth. </p><p>I watch her apply gauze and bandages to other spots along Snow’s torso and back. I carefully move the ice pack to Snow’s bruised cheek and watch as he winces.</p><p>“Done,” Wellbelove says as she takes her gloves off inside-out and throws them in the small bin by my desk. She makes sure to cover them with a few of my empty Monster cans. “Any over-the-counter pain pills will help, but I recommend ibuprofen for the swelling that may occur.”</p><p>“Thanks, Aggie.” Snow gives her a smile. “You’re amazing.”</p><p>“I’ll walk you out,” I say. I’m not sure how I feel right now. I’m a bit in shock, but also a bit irritated. Not at Wellbelove or Snow, but at myself—they’re dating (aren’t they?), so of course he’d give her a smile once she appeared. But, when I think about it, why did Snow come here and not somewhere else?</p><p>I watch Wellbelove throw her father’s bag over the fence and then hop it gracefully. I wait until I see her bedroom light at the back of her house turn on before closing the door and locking it. </p><p>With a heavy sigh I make my way back toward my bedroom, not considering that Snow would still be there. It’s worse than I could have ever imagined. He’s in his underwear—tight black boxer-briefs which leave very little to my overactive imagination. His suit is folded as best as it can be and tucked mostly under my bookbag, and he’s lying in my bed. </p><p>“What are you doing?” I ask as I hurriedly lock my bedroom door, lest someone in my family attempts to barge in sometime during the night or morning and sees <em> this </em>. </p><p>“I need to rest,” Snow says as if it’s obvious. As if he’s not stripped bare on my bed, with his golden freckled skin and spatter of moles. His nipples are a lovely shade of brown, and his treasure trail matches the bronze on top of his head. This is how I am going to die, killed by combustion due to having a beautiful half-naked boy on my bed. I hope they don’t put that on my tombstone. “I can sleep on the floor, but your bed is comfortable and my body hurts.”</p><p>“You can’t go to your own home?” I’m trying my best to maintain calm, but I can hear how strangled my tone is gradually becoming. </p><p>“Baz,” Snow sighs. He’s leaning up on his elbows and it’s causing his abdominal muscles to flex enticingly. I’m too gay for this. “I can’t swing home like this. Please, just for a few hours.”</p><p>Guilt immediately floods me. “Yes. Of course, you’re right.”</p><p>It’s nearly one in the morning now, and we both need to sleep if we’re going to be even half-alive at school in the morning. Fuck, how does he do it? He’s a vigilante by night and a high school student by day. What happens when we graduate and move on with our lives? How will he be able to balance both a career and being Spider-Man? I need to shut my brain off, but it appears to be latching onto any fleeting thought that isn’t Snow in my bed. </p><p>“There’s plenty of room,” Snow says. He’s settling down and has even thrown my flat sheet over himself. “I don’t mind sharing.”</p><p>“That’s obvious since you’re practically forcing it on me,” I hiss.</p><p>Snow is asleep before he even gets a chance to respond. I watch him for several minutes, still leaning against my door before shaking myself and turning off the light. It’s just a few hours, although I doubt I’ll be able to sleep much at all. </p><p>My nerves are shot as I crawl into bed beside him. I’m fully dressed but distinctly aware of his lack of clothing, and he’s close enough to me that I can feel the warmth his body radiates. If I shift myself a bit, we’ll be touching.</p><p>Is this what it’s like to share space with an open flame? To be so close to the thing that you desire most? It hurts. I can’t help but feel that allowing him here like this is going to result in getting burned.</p><p>Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for the sound of his breathing to lull me to sleep.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>The sound of knocking on a door wakes me up and I blink groggily. I’m about to respond to Ms. Possibelf but then remember that I’m not home. In fact, everything begins to rush back to me and I sit up quickly, realizing that my bare legs are tangled up with Baz’s long ones. I can feel my face heat in a blotchy blush. Did we <em> cuddle</em>?</p><p>“Basil!” a sweet, high, voice calls from the other side of the door. “Mommy says you’re going to be late! Daddy already left for work!”</p><p>“Go away, Mordelia!” Baz answers loudly from beside me. He’s still huddled under the blanket. His long arms are suddenly above where I assume his head is, and I can see the blanket shift as he arches his back off of the mattress. He makes a groaning noise that causes me to shiver.</p><p>I gulp. </p><p>“I’m telling!” Mordelia says before I hear her footsteps run away from the bedroom. </p><p>Is this what it’s like to have a little sister? I can’t help but feel amusement at their exchange. They’re nothing like Penny and her siblings, who don’t interact at all. Pacey is at our high school and I’ve never seen him even speak to Penny unless he has to.</p><p>“You’re still here,” Baz says from under the blanket. His socked feet are still slotted between mine. He sits up and rubs at his face, causing the blanket to pool around his hips. Unlike me he’s fully dressed, but this still feels entirely too intimate. </p><p>Baz’s hair is a mess; it was in a ponytail last night, but chunks of it are now loose. He has pillow marks on his cheek and dried drool at the corner of his mouth. Yet I can’t help but find it cute, like a kitten that just woke up. Nothing like the Baz I know from school. </p><p>“Yeah,” I say. I look away from him and take in his bedroom instead. “Um, can I borrow something to wear?”</p><p>“What?” Baz asks as he rubs his eyes. “Why?”</p><p>“If I go home then I’ll be late to school. If I’m late to school then my dad will know something is up,” I say. I’m pretty good at covering my bases. I can text Ms. Possibelf that I fell asleep on Penny’s sofa again. She’ll believe that. </p><p>“Nothing I own is going to fit you,” Baz says. He does another full body stretch and it leaves my mouth dry. “Maybe some track shorts and a t-shirt? What size shoe are you?”</p><p>Somehow I wind up using Baz’s bathroom (he shares with his sister and it’s decorated in a Frozen theme) with a spare toothbrush and what I’m guessing are his gym clothes—the shirt’s a little tight across the chest and the shorts are a little long, but it works. Surprisingly, we’re the same size in shoes. </p><p>He’s there beside me, in jeans and a floral button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His hair is in a topknot. (And he doesn’t look like a tool with it like that either.) He’s putting on his cologne, and I realize that I’m going to smell like him all day.</p><p>I watch as Baz puts his contacts in, slightly disappointed that his glasses are gone. “Can you give me a ride to school?”</p><p>“You ask so much of me,” he says before leading the way back to his bedroom. We can hear his sister and step-mother’s voices from in the kitchen. “How’s your arm?”</p><p>“It’s good,” I say honestly. Accelerated healing is a part of my abilities. I’ve already removed the all of the gauze Agatha put on me last night, and the stitches have fallen out. </p><p>Baz gives me an extra bag to put my suit in. It’s old and a bit ratty—not something I expect him to own. But I’m not going to argue it. My backpack is still in my locker at school. Because I, like a dumbass, went straight to Watford after school. Only to immediately get caught. I need a plan, a real one, in order to get this done. </p><p>“Wait for me outside,” Baz says as he slips his shoes on. “I’ll drive you.”</p><p>“Thank you,” I say as I open his window, “for everything. I mean it.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes at me. “Shut up.”</p>
<hr/><p>Being in a car with Baz is weird. It’s not as if we’ve never traveled together before, we’ve gone on field trips and whatnot—but this is different. He has classical music playing and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the symphony. </p><p>I’m trying my best not to fidget, but I’m hyper aware of the fact that I’m wearing his clothes and that I used his grooming products. It’s all just weird. </p><p>“I assume you’re going to come up with a plan now?” Baz asks after we stop by McDonalds to pick me up breakfast (he has some weird green smoothie from his house). I couldn’t exactly refuse the food he offers; I haven’t eaten since lunch the day prior. </p><p>“Yeah,” I say in between bites. “I’m hoping Penny or you—or both—can help me?”</p><p>We’re at a stoplight when another earthquake happens. </p><p>“They're becoming more frequent,” Baz says. His knuckles are turning white with how tightly he’s gripping the wheel. “It’s concerning.”</p><p>I want to tell him <em> no shit</em>. I want to yank my hair out and scream in frustration that I can’t seem to do this right. My and Ebb's first attempt ended with her dead. My second attempt had me bleeding on Baz’s floor. I need to take care of this—and soon. </p><p>“What do you think will happen when this is done and over with?” Baz asks me. </p><p>I’ve a breakfast sandwich halfway into my mouth. I turn my face to him, chewing thoughtfully. “How do you mean?”</p><p>“You’re disgusting, please swallow your food,” Baz says as he flicks his turn signal on. He’s not looked away from the road once. “Let’s say you succeed and you defeat your father. Then what? What happens to you when he’s in prison?”</p><p>I hadn’t thought about that. </p><p>“Pray that my grandma or uncle take me in?” I shrug. I haven’t seen either of them in a while, but regardless, I’ll be okay. I’ll somehow land on my feet. Right now isn’t even the right time for this to be on my mind. I’ve got bigger things to be concerned about.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>AGATHA</b>
</p><p>“I thought I made it clear that I'm in no way involved,” I say while leaning against the back of the bleachers.</p><p>It’s lunchtime and the three musketeers asked me to join them. I didn't expect my lunch to be battle planning and trying to save the city. I didn't sign up for this! This is me being dragged into things against my will. I want the record to show that I have never been, and will never be, a follower. I don’t want anything to do with superheroes—although, admittedly, saving the city is important. Mostly because I live here too. </p><p>We’re on the field, sitting underneath the bleachers like a bunch of delinquents. </p><p>“You’re always free to leave,” Baz says as he picks at his lunch. </p><p>He looks exhausted, and I feel a little bad for him. He probably took care of Simon all night. But, even exhausted, he’s still hot. I kind of resent him for that. I know I’m pretty, but it takes some work. With Baz it always comes across as effortless.</p><p>“She can’t leave,” Penny says, sitting next to Simon, chomping on a bag of sea salt and vinegar chips. “She knows too much.”</p><p>Simon nods as he inhales his food. </p><p>“Manners, Simon,” I find myself telling him. I have a protein shake for lunch that I made at home this morning. But I’m not drinking it; my appetite has pretty much vanished. </p><p>“Sorry,” Simon shrugs. </p><p>“How’s your arm?” I ask. If I’m going to be here, I may as well be useful. </p><p>“Oh!” Simon looks down at his arm as if he’s just suddenly remembering that I was dragged out of my house last night to give him makeshift stitches and pop his shoulder back into place. He really should have it in a sling, or at least he should have last night. I think. I’m not a medical professional. “The stitches fell out. I heal fast.”</p><p>I’m suddenly on the grass before him, grabbing at his arm without asking to see for myself. The bandages are gone and the stitching has been removed. All that’s left is his freckle-covered skin and a mark so light that it will eventually fade within the next few days. </p><p>“What the fuck,” I say. I run my fingers up and down his bare arm to make sure that I’m not hallucinating. When I look up at Simon, I realize his face is red and he’s looking over at Baz. I follow his gaze and realize that Baz is glaring at where my hand is touching Simon. “Wait, are you two <em> together?” </em></p><p>“What?” Simon sputters. </p><p>Baz’s ears are turning pink as he shifts his glare up to my face. </p><p>Penny chokes on her food and coughs until her windpipe is clear. And then she’s laughing, high pitched and a little hysterical. “Oh my God!”</p><p>“Penny!” Simon says through clenched teeth, but his blush is now crawling down his long neck. </p><p>“Was it a secret?” I ask. “Why’d you agree to go to the dance with me if you’re with Basil?”</p><p>“Aren’t we here to discuss a plan?” Baz asks snippily. </p><p>“Yeah!” Simon nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! Exactly!”</p><p>“Yes,” Penny says while still chuckling. “Yes, let’s plan this out to prevent Simon from getting even more hurt the next time. Which will be the last time too.”</p><p>And then she begins to tell us the plan. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>I’m following Snow through a building that has a doorman and an elevator. It shouldn’t be surprising; his father is loaded. What is surprising is him allowing me to go home with him to see if there’s any way I can add an earpiece into his suit, so that he can have easy communication to either Bunce or myself. </p><p>“You live in the penthouse,” I state blandly once we exit the elevator. </p><p>“Yeah,” Snow shrugs. He looks sheepish, almost embarrassed by it. Distantly I always knew that his family had money, but it’s hard to believe when it comes to a boy who wears the same three track bottoms to school nearly every day.</p><p>His house isn’t what I would expect of someone like Snow. It’s barren and cold. Open concept and clean lines, all white and chrome. </p><p>“I’m home!” Snow’s voice echoes throughout the cavernous space. “Ms. Possibelf, I brought a classmate over.”</p><p>He hasn’t stopped his trek to where I assume his bedroom is. (I’m going to be inside of his bedroom!) (I’m aware that I spent the night wrapped up in him, but this is different.)</p><p>Snow stops suddenly, causing me to almost topple into him. He turns toward a door sharply before it opens from the inside. An amicable look pasted quickly onto his face. </p><p>“Simon,” says a man who could only be his father. They look a little similar. They have the same blue eyes and same square jawline, though Snow is broader and taller (and more handsome). I can only assume that Snow takes after his mother. “You’re home early.”</p><p>“Hey dad,” Snow greets. He doesn’t correct his father; it's actually later than he should be home. We spent extra time in the library after school, poring over the maps Bunce provided. “This is Baz, we were going to study for our upcoming trigonometry test.” </p><p>“Hello,” I greet. I can play the awkward teenager. Although the atmosphere between them is thick, so perhaps I won’t have to pretend to feel this way. I thought my father and I had our issues, but it’s nothing compared to this. I’m becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and worried. How does this man treat his son when there isn’t an audience around? </p><p>“I didn’t see on my calendar that you’ve been given permission to bring a friend home,” his father says. He tone sounds like he’s aiming for playful, like he’s joking, only it falls flat. I can’t help but feel that he’s a dick. </p><p>“I–” Snow opens his mouth and I can already hear the stammering begin. He’s going to fumble atrociously over his words; he always does when he’s nervous. How is this boy Spider-Man?</p><p>“My apologies,” a soft feminine voice says from down the hallway. “That was my mistake, sir. I’ve been preoccupied with things and I forgot to add it to your schedule. You permitted this a week ago.” The woman is tall and broad, with long pale blonde hair in a braid down her back and dark eyes. </p><p>Mr. Snow frowns at her, as if weighing his options, before nodding. “Of course. I suppose you’re only human, Ms. Possibelf. Let’s not make this mistake twice.”</p><p>His tone makes me want to cringe. </p><p>He sets his gaze on me briefly before leaving, walking down the hallway and to another part of the house. He doesn’t say another word to his son. The woman, Ms. Possibelf, seems to disappear in the blink of an eye.</p><p>I feel Snow’s warm fingers touch my wrist and it jolts me back into focus. </p><p>“Come on,” Snow says. His voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable and it throws me off kilter. He should never sound this way. </p><p>His bedroom isn’t quite what I expect. It’s large, yes, with a king size bed and bookcases full of graphic novels. He has a television and a laptop and things that I would expect. However, the walls are bare and the room is impeccably clean. I’ve seen the inside of Snow’s locker and know that tidy is not his default setting. Which means that he most likely has someone cleaning up after him at home. I’m not sure how to feel about that. </p><p>Snow closes the door behind him as I take in my surroundings. His bedroom windows overlook the city, and it’s an amazing view. </p><p>“Here,” Snow says from behind me. I turn and see in his hands the black material of his costume. It’s not the same one he wore last night, that one got tattered and stained. This one is new. “See, I think Ebb wanted to do it because if you look–”</p><p>“Are we really not going to talk about what the fuck just happened in the hallway?” I find myself blurting out. I’m annoyed. Mostly at Snow, but also at myself. I’ve never been open with him before; I always preferred to stay silent about things. But the way his father treated him was unacceptable. </p><p>“Baz,” Snow starts. He juts his jaw out at me and squares his shoulders. “Don’t.”</p><p>“Seriously?”</p><p>“<em>Don’t.” </em> He’s peering up at me with his stupid blue eyes, and for once I can’t read the expression on his face. “It’s not always like that.”</p><p>I scoff but don’t say another word regarding the incident. I feel off-kilter. Golden boy Simon Snow has a fucked up home life like the rest of us. I take a look at the uniform as he shifts on his feet. He wants to say more to me, I can tell, and I almost want to bark at him to spit it out. Instead, the tips of his fingers touch my wrist again and I momentarily forget how to breathe.</p><p>“I—”      </p><p>I stop speaking when he smiles softly at me. <em> I’m too gay for this</em>. </p><p>“Thanks, for everything.” Snow says. He’s close enough that his body heat is seeping into me. The smell of him is smoky and heady, and I feel as if I’m crashing into him. “Do you think you can get an earpiece in?”</p><p>“Yeah,” I say, but I feel faraway. Out of body. It’s difficult for me to come back into myself. “I’m a genius, I can do it. Oh! Before I forget–” I take my bookbag off and reach into the inner pocket for the web-shooters I created for him. “Here.”</p><p>“Oh shit!” Snow stares at them with wide eyes before taking them from me. I’ve managed to make five in total. </p><p>“They’re stronger than the ones that you had previously. I’ve managed to break down certain components and focus on what works. These are just prototypes, you’ll need to test them before actually using them in the field. However, I think–” I never get to finish my sentence, because suddenly Snow is hugging me. </p><p>“<em> Fuck </em> ,” Snow says into my shoulder. He’s shorter than me and his hair is nearly in my mouth. He’s solid and warm and soft and hard against me. He’s rounded angles that still jut out sharply, and <em> alive </em>. He’s so alive against me, his arms wound tight and his body trembling. I think he may be crying. </p><p>I sigh and wrap my arms around his torso, my hands splaying out across his back. He’s been through a lot this last week. I can’t imagine the horrors that he’s faced and what he’s going to be up against in the future. I can’t even begin to understand what it’s like to be Spider-Man, to willingly save people from actual super villains. One of whom is his father. (It’s like he’s Luke fucking Skywalker.)</p><p>“Snow,” I say, but then clear my throat and try again. “<em>Simon</em>, it’s going to be alright.”</p><p>He’s shaking his head. </p><p>“You’re the bravest person I know,” I say. “And highly intelligent and resourceful. You can do this.”</p><p>I never thought I would be the one giving Snow a pep talk, or holding him so tightly to me that I can feel our heartbeats pulsing in unison. His breath is damp against my shoulder, but the trembling has subdued and his breathing isn’t as harsh. </p><p>“I like when you call me that,” Snow says as he pulls away. His eyes are red and he has a warbly smile on his face. </p><p>“What? ‘Intelligent and resourceful?’” I ask while arching a brow at him. “Don’t get used to compliments from me.”</p><p>“No, you ass.” Snow huffs a soft laugh. “When you call me by my name. You never do.”</p><p>I roll my eyes at him. “How else would you know when I’m being soft with you?”</p><p>“You can be soft with me all the time, Baz.” His face is open and honest, and this is heading into dangerous territory. But then, I realize that we haven’t exactly left each other’s orbits; he’s still standing inexcusably close to me. </p><p><em> Oh</em>.</p><p>His hand is on my cheek, his thumb is caressing just under my eye, and I think I’m going to melt. I’m going to die of combustion at this very moment. Simon Snow is <em> caressing my face </em>. </p><p>“I just–” Snow begins, his eyes on my mouth. He wets his lips. </p><p>My heart is in my throat. If he leans forward just a little bit, he’ll be kissing me. It’s easy enough. I want it, I want it badly. </p><p>Snow suddenly pulls away from me, taking his suit from my hands and shoving it under his pillow just before his bedroom door opens. He’s instantly sitting on his bed, with his textbook open on his lap, and I’m standing nearly a metre distance away from him. We both turn to face his housekeeper, Ms. Possibelf. (Is she his housekeeper? Nanny? It’s hard to say.)</p><p>“Will your friend be staying for dinner, Simon?” She asks. She has this look to her that puts me on edge, as if her dark eyes can see all. She probably knows everything that goes on in this house. I wonder why she stays when she works for someone as unpleasant as Mr. Snow. </p><p>Snow looks over at me, blue eyes wide and a high blush staining his cheeks. “Um.”</p><p>“No, thank you, Ms. Possibelf. I’ll only be here for little while,” I say as I give her my most charming smile.</p><p>“Alright then.” Ms. Possibelf nods and then leaves. Weird. </p><p>Snow looks back at me and lets out a breath, “that was close.”</p><p><em> Close to what? </em> I wonder. Close to him kissing me? Close to being caught with his Spider-Man suit in the home of the enemy? Close to me losing my damn mind?</p><p>He peers up at me through his stubby lashes, and I have to remind myself that we are not friends. Our working together to save the city being the only reason we’re even speaking to one another amicably. Whatever this <em> thing </em>is between us, it must be a fluke.</p><p>We’re still staring at each other. </p><p>“The suit?” I ask, ready to get back to our initial task. </p><p>Snow takes a moment to catch up, and then he nods. “Yeah, here, I uh–I–<em>fuck it </em>.”</p><p>Snow is back in my personal space in the blink of an eye, his hot palm is on the back of my neck and he’s pulling me down while standing on his toes, his other hand on my shoulder. Every part that’s touching me is sparking. </p><p>“Simon–” I say. </p><p>And then he’s kissing me. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>PENNY</b>
</p><p>The dance is taking place at a hotel near Watford, which works suspiciously in our favor. We’re playing as couples—Agatha and Simon, Basil and me. I wanted to go to the dance with Micah Cordero, but our mission is more important than some silly teen romance. I mean, I hope it is. I hope we’re successful in this. I’m confident we will be, even if I am disappointed that I’ve probably lost my only chance with Micah.</p><p>Our objective is to be at the dance for at least two hours, ensuring that everyone sees Simon is in attendance. Then, the four of us plan on going to dinner at a pizzeria nearby. By dinner, we mean that we’re going to set our laptops up and ensure that Simon gets into Watford safe.</p><p>So we dance, we mingle, we laugh and pretend that everything is normal. I <em> wish </em>everything was normal. I’m not one for school dances or things so trivial, but it’s not bad. Trixie and Keris even manage to start a conga line, and nearly everyone joins in. Gareth has spiked the punch early on in the evening and the chaperones aren’t doing too much to ensure that there’s an appropriate amount of distance between couples. Dev and Niall making out in the corner is proof of that.</p><p>A slow song begins to play and Agatha and I decide to sit it out. My feet are aching and our time here is almost up. </p><p>Simon, however, instead of sitting with us, shyly takes Baz’s hand and drags him out onto the dance floor. Despite Simon’s blushing, he looks determined. </p><p>“<em>Finally</em>,” I say as I watch them take position and sway together. </p><p>“They’re disgustingly cute,” Agatha says to me, leaning her elbow on the table and cradling her chin in her palm. </p><p>We watch them dance in silence. They even share a kiss, which startles a few of the couples around them, because it’s <em> Simon and Baz </em>doing it, the two who often were quite vocal in their arguments. Almost everyone in school was aware of how they didn’t get along. (All that sexual tension probably wasn’t healthy for them.) After they’re done dancing we’ll have to leave. </p><p>The world may end for us tomorrow, but for tonight, they’re allowed this moment. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>Penny gives me a tight hug and kiss on the cheek, and Agatha does the same before the two of them go into the pizzeria with Baz’s satchel that has Ebb’s laptop in it. I watch them go, wishing I could go with them, wishing that we could all be normal. That we could just be regular teenagers going out for a bite after a school dance. </p><p>Instead, Baz and I duck into the space between the brick buildings so that I can change. Baz is standing guard, with my bookbag in his hands so that he can put my clothes into it and keep my belongings safe. </p><p>I’m undressing in a danky alleyway between a pizzeria and a Chinese takeaway. This is the glamorous life of a superhero. </p><p>Only the mask is left when the ground begins to quake. It’s strong enough to send Baz off-balance, but I manage to catch him before he lands on his face. I can hear car alarms going off and dogs barking in the distance, but I can only focus on the feeling of his solid shoulders beneath my hands. He’s still wearing his suit, a dark green one that works well for him. </p><p>His ocean gray eyes are wide as he peers up at me, both of his hands on my elbows, my bag having been dropped at his feet. </p><p>“Thank you,” he says as soon as the world stops shaking. </p><p>I kiss him, because I can, because I want to, because he lets me. Because there is a very real chance that if I fail we’ll all die. This may be my last kiss with Baz, and I try not to lament over all of our missed opportunities together. We could have been doing this all along.</p><p>Baz gasps into my mouth as soon as our tongues touch, and I’d much rather be doing this than fighting. </p><p>When we finally pull apart, I’m pleased by the way Baz’s mouth is wet and his face is slightly flushed. I want to kiss him again. I want to kiss him until our mouths are sore.</p><p>I pull my mask on and look at Baz. It’s like I’m trying to imprint this moment in my mind before I go.</p><p>Baz watches me as I launch myself up one of the brick faces and maneuver so that I’m standing. My view of him tilts sideways, but it’s still a pretty view. </p><p>“You have the maps, so don’t get me lost,” I say. </p><p>I’m about to run up the wall when I hear Baz say to me, “Go get ‘em, love.”</p><p>Normally, I’d tease him about the pet name, but it makes me feel warm inside. </p><p>I don’t have the time to go back and kiss him some more. Instead, I run up the building until I’m on the roof. From here there’s a perfect few of where I need to go, but unfortunately nothing is high enough for me to swing over to.</p><p>That’s fine, I can improvise. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>AGATHA</b>
</p><p>I still don’t know why I’m here. I almost feel as if I’m being guilted into it, and honestly, I’d rather still be at the dance. I’d rather be ignorant to all of this going on and just enjoy myself, even if it may possibly be the last night of our lives. </p><p>Instead, I’m in this pizzeria, listening to Penelope give instructions to Simon over her phone as she follows the map she downloaded from her father’s computer. Basilton is across from her, fingers flying over the keys of his laptop, Simon’s bag with his clothes beside him. I’m the only one nibbling on the pizza we ordered. </p><p>It’s surprisingly empty in here tonight. There’s only one other booth with an occupant and it’s the one behind us. He’s been watching us the entire time too, his dark eyes intelligent behind his round hipster glasses. He looks around our age, maybe a little older, but not by much. His jean jacket has pins covering the lapel and he’s not even pretending that he’s not eavesdropping. </p><p>When he realizes that I’m watching him watch us, he gives me a bright grin and gets up. I didn’t realize my glare was an invitation to him. </p><p>“Hey,” he says as he comes up to our table. Both Basil and Penny ignore him as they continue to do what they’ve been doing. The stranger just smiles brighter, showing his dimples. “I’m Shepard.”</p><p>Penny hands her phone over to Baz, who immediately begins to talk with Simon. She turns her gaze over to Shepard and frowns. “We don’t care.”</p><p>I don’t even bother to tell her how rude she’s being. </p><p>“I think that you should,” Shepard says while motioning to Basil, “seeing as your friend is trying to hack into the security at Watford, and I happen to work there part-time as a security guard.”</p><p>“You going to call the police?” Penny asks, and for a split second it looks like she’s about to hit Shepard and run off with all the evidence of what we’re doing. </p><p>“That all depends,” Shepard says amicably, as if it’s not obvious that Penelope is one step away from throwing the pepper shaker at his face. “I saw Spider-Man on the roof before coming in, and I’m just curious—are you guys helping him with something? Something to do with Watford?”</p><p>The phone is suddenly back in Penelope’s hands and Baz slides Simon’s bag onto the floor while scooting over, his fingers pausing briefly on the keyboard so that he can move his laptop over to him. </p><p>“Sit down,” Baz says sharply. His eyes haven’t left his screen. “If you’re fucking with us, just remember that you’ll die too if we’re not successful.”</p><p>“Man, I knew there was crooked shit going on at Watford,” Shepard says. Unlike me, he looks as if he wants to be here. He opens the satchel he had been carrying and takes out a notebook and a pen. “I have the security codes for the first six floors.”</p><p>“You’re going to help us?” I ask. “No questions asked?”</p><p>“Well, you’re Spider-Man’s team, right?” Shepard asks me. There’s something about his face that makes me want to be honest with him. Something about him feels trustworthy, and I can’t help but nod, even though<em> I’m </em>definitely not a part of this. “Spidey is a good guy, he’s always done what’s right, so yeah, I’ll help you. But, in exchange, you have to get me an interview with him for my podcast.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>Penny’s maps bring me directly to the room where the collider is being held. It’s an all white area, with the large machine in the center. Just on the other side is a glass wall where my fight with Lamb occurred. This time, however, the fire alarms are going off throughout the entire building—the flashing red lights distract me to the point where I almost don’t manage to dodge a bullet aimed for my head. </p><p>“What the fuck?” I shout as I swing up toward the top of the machine. Baz said that there’s a panel where I’d slip the goober and then I’d have ten minutes to get out of the building. </p><p>I dodge another bullet, though it grazes my arm, cutting through my suit and burning my skin. This won’t do, I can’t save the city if I’m killed! I can’t die like this, not before I finish this mission. I need to make sure that Ebb’s death isn’t in vain. To make sure that everyone else that I care about isn’t killed because of this stupid fucking machine.</p><p>My father is standing on the floor near the base of the collider. Lamb is a crumpled mess beside him, blood pooled around his head. It makes my stomach twist with nausea as bile threatens to rise up my throat. </p><p>I spring away, barely one step ahead of each bullet whizzing past me. For someone who wanted this machine running by today, my father doesn’t seem to care if it’s full of bullet holes. </p><p>I hit at random panels until one pops open, throwing the lid at Dad and hitting him on the forehead with enough force to cause a wound. It startles him and causes him to stop shooting. Thank fuck. I have enough of a reprieve to put the thumb drive into the small slot that was meant for an override key. Relief floods me, because I've done it. I've saved the city! I did it!</p><p>I hear, rather than see, the bullet hit my flesh, and for a moment there’s nothing. It feels as if I was stung by a wasp on my left calf. I shoot a web at my father, aiming for the hand holding the pistol and sending it flying before hitting him with another web. He falls to the ground, his feet caught up in the webbing. </p><p>I, on the other hand, am losing feeling in my leg. I look down and see blood pouring out of a gunshot wound. </p><p>“Fuck,” I say, suddenly feeling woozy at the sight. My suit is black but the material is starting to stick to me. I can feel it becoming tacky and hard against my skin, pulling on the injury. </p><p>I don’t have much time to get myself and my father out of the building, and the flashing lights of the alarm don’t help me get my head clear enough for this at all. </p><p>I fall to the ground, landing clumsily and gritting my teeth at the pressure on my leg, but I move forward. </p><p>“Mr. Snow,” I say, “this building is about to blow, we need to get you out of here.”</p><p>The sheer rage on his face, the obvious hatred, causes my stomach to clench and my hands to shake unsteadily. </p><p>“I can help you,” I say. I've lost Ebb, my mentor, and I'm not losing my only real family either. He may not be the best person, but I can’t leave him. <em> I can’t, I can’t, I can’t </em>.</p><p>“I don’t need your help,” he spits at me as he pulls his leg free from the webbing. I’m not sure how he’s managed to do it; the new webbing Baz made is even stronger than my old one.</p><p>I follow my instinct and dodge as he throws a punch at me, dancing away from him as best as I can. There’s a knife in his hand, and I’m not sure where it came from, but I do know that I don’t want to be shanked by my father. </p><p>“We have less than ten minutes!” I say as I kick him in the chest with my good leg. He grabs my ankle and stabs my calf. I cry out in pain. It’s intense and I want nothing more than to fall to the ground and curl in on myself.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Dad snarls, winding his arm back to punch me. </p><p>I grab his fist and flip him over my shoulder. He lands against the collider with a sickening <em> CRACK </em>. His body dents the frame, but he gets up as if it’s nothing, spitting blood onto the floor and wiping the back of his hand against his busted lip. </p><p>It’s like he’s souped up on something else, some superhuman steroid. He’s always been a man who was obsessed with power, whether it was money or title or position—altering his body is just another way to be stronger.</p><p>Dad’s taken the stance of a boxer, looking broader in his suit, his large fists at the ready. </p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, but I can feel sparks just underneath the skin of my palms. </p><p>“That’s exactly what Spider-Woman said,” Dad snarls with a nasty grin on his face, “right before I killed her.”</p><p>My intake of breath is sharp, and my feelings are conflicted. Rage washes over me, but so does remorse. What do I do? What <em> can </em> I do? He’s charging me like a freight train—with the force to match. I meet him head-on, bracing myself as he attempts to tackle me to the ground. </p><p>He lands punches on my sides and stomach as I try to elbow him off of me, but Dad’s relentless. </p><p>“Stop,” I scream, my hands finally getting a good grip on him. “Stop hurting me!” I push all of my electricity into him, as much as I’m physically able to. Lightning crackles around us, and he convulses, foaming at the mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head.</p><p>Dad crumples to the floor in a heap and for a heart-stopping moment I’m afraid that I’ve killed him. I pick him up and realize that he’s still breathing, and the relief that floods me almost leaves me boneless. </p><p>I don’t remember getting out of the building, but I managed while carrying my father out on my back. When we reach the street, there’s a perimeter set up by the police around the building, about two city blocks cut off from the public. All guns aimed at me until I dump my father onto the pavement, and as quick as I can, I web myself up high onto the nearest building, pulling myself onto the roof of a nearby skyscraper.</p>
<hr/><p>I wake up on an unfamiliar floor, a throw pillow underneath my head and a blanket over my form. I’m naked save for my underwear and mask. My legs throb unpleasantly, and I carefully sit up, feeling dizzy before checking them out. There’s gauze over where I had been shot and stabbed. Why do I still have my mask on?</p><p>I’m in a living room. There’s a brown leather sofa to my right, and Agatha is lounging on it, on her phone and still dressed for the school dance. She sits up once she realizes I’m awake. </p><p>“Where are we?” I ask her, about to pull off my mask but am stopped by her hand on my arm. </p><p>“We’re at Shepard’s,” she says, as if it’s all the explanation that I need. I don’t even know who Shepard is. “Pen called you to make sure that you got out of the building and gave you directions to here, and you’ve been unconscious for about two hours. How do your legs feel?”</p><p>“Like shit,” I answer. “You patched me up?”</p><p>“Unfortunately,” Agatha says while rolling her eyes. “You really need to stop relying on me to fix you. I’m not a professional.”</p><p>There are voices coming from nearby.</p><p>“He’s up!” Agatha says from over the edge of the sofa. </p><p>There’s a brief silence before the sound of feet hitting the wooden floor come toward me. I see Penny first—actually I see up her skirt first, but I won’t tell her that. Behind her is a guy I’ve never met, probably Shepard, who’s nearly as tall as Baz. And at the tail end is Baz. </p><p>Penny scrambles to kneel on the floor beside me. “You scared the shit out of me!”</p><p>“Sorry,” I say. “Where’s my suit?”</p><p>“I have it,” Baz says. “It’s in your bag. You were bleeding pretty heavily. We had to cut the legs off when we removed it.”</p><p>“Wonderful,” I say. Good thing I have another backup. “What happened to Watford?” <em> What happened to my father? </em></p><p>Baz and Penny exchange a brief look. </p><p>“It blew up,” Penny said. “Actually, Shepard, can you turn on the news?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Shepard said while reaching for the remote control. Every news station shows the footage. Watford was on <em> fire </em>, its glass windows were shattered and debris was all over the street. I could hear the reporter mentioning that it was probably a gas leak, but when eye-witnesses were interviewed, everyone brought up Spider-Man. </p><p>“Shit,” I say. “The city probably thinks I’m a terrorist now. I can picture the headlines for tomorrow—<em>Spider-Man is a Menace!</em> <em>Police Seek Spider-Man! Sideline the Spider: Don't let Spider-Menace replace police force!” </em></p><p>“You thought of those titles off the top of your head?” Agatha asks, looking impressed. </p><p>I nod. The Daily Bugle has a vendetta against me, and I wouldn’t put it past them to continue to slander Spider-Man despite my having saved the city. </p><p>Baz sits on the floor besides me, his long legs crossing at the ankles. “If anyone is the terrorist, it’s me; I’m the one who caused the machine to blow up.”</p><p>“You’re more like an arsonist,” I quip. </p><p>“I can’t believe it worked,” Penny says, her eyes glued to the television screen. </p><p>“What do you think is going to happen to Mr. Snow?” Shepard asks. “Or the company? Do you think they’re going to rebuild Watford?”</p><p>My phone begins to ring, saving anyone from answering. </p><p>Baz jumps up to his feet—gracefully. He grabs my backpack from behind the sofa and digs in it for my cell. “It’s your housekeeper.”</p><p>My heart plummets as I reach up and drag my mask off. My hair is matted to my forehead and I answer my phone while running my fingers through my knotted curls. I have a feeling that I already know what this call is about. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>PENNY</b>
</p><p>I’ve always hated hospitals; it’s the smell. The constant disinfected scent and the freezing temperature. I remember coming into the hospital with my mom when Lucy was sick. I remember my mom crying during the car ride home after every visit. </p><p>We’re hopping out of Shepard’s pick-up, where Agatha and I were shoved into the cabin with Shepard while Simon and Baz sat in the bed—they’re holding hands, fingers laced together, as they meet us at the entrance of the hospital, both appearing windswept and tousled. </p><p>I take Simon’s other hand and squeeze it before letting him go. He’s walking with a limp, but his shoulders are straight and his chin is jut out. He’s probably the strongest person that I’ve ever known.</p>
<hr/><p>David Snow is in a medically induced coma due to brain swelling. He has a fractured skull, broken ribs, a broken tibia, and a sprained wrist. The doctors want to keep him under until the swelling goes down. He has burn marks all over his body—the doctors say that it looks like he’s been electrocuted, and they’re worried about serious nerve, tissue, or brain damage.  </p><p>Simon has been sitting in the waiting room, staring at his dress shoes, hunched against Baz for support. I’ve been texting my mom, letting her know where I am and what’s going on. Agatha left after the first half hour, calling an Uber and heading home. (It was a surprise that she stayed as long as she did.)</p><p>Shepard and I exchanged numbers before he left. I’m not sure why I gave him my phone number. He’s nineteen and attending a college here. He’s got a podcast and he’s full of conspiracy theories and he’s sort of annoying. But in a way that an unsolved mystery is annoying. I keep wanting to hear more of his stories—he was droning on about the one time he spotted Mothman to Agatha and I on the drive to the hospital.</p><p>My mom wants me to come home and is threatening to send my oldest brother, Premal, to come get me. Until he shows up, I’m determined to remain right where I am. I take the empty seat beside Simon and hold his hand, I wonder if there’s anyone we can contact for him. Technically, he’s a minor. Would he be placed in foster care? Would a social worker or someone contact his grandmother? Would Ms. Possibelf be allowed to take him home? Or are wealthy people treated differently? </p><p>I squeeze Simon’s hand tightly. His palm is hot and his fingers are strong where they grip mine.</p><p>He squeezes back.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>When Snow finally sits up straight, I hold his gaze and ask, “Did you know that when male bees mate, their penises explode and they die?”</p><p>Snow looks baffled for a moment, and then smiles at me. A large, albeit tired, grin on his face. “Did you seriously just say that?”</p><p>“I’ve been wanting to tell you about my idea for a book called 50 Shades of Honey for a while,” I say, smirking.</p><p>Snow sighs, and slumps closer to me, his fingers still twined with mine.  “What if I had killed him?” </p><p>There’s no need to specify who he’s talking about. Visiting hours are over, and we’ve been sitting in the waiting room in silence. It’s not as if Snow has nowhere else to go, it’s that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s stagnant, and just needs a shoulder to lean on until he can gather himself together. </p><p>It’s late, and it’s just Snow and I waiting for his grandmother to come for him. Bunce put up quite the fight on staying before her brother dragged her home. My father has threatened to ground me if I don’t make it home before 2AM, but I don’t care. I’ll talk to Daphne about it and will get off scot free after a few days. My father isn’t as strict as he pretends to be—he’s actually not the best parent (especially after my mom died), but he tries. I don’t think he knows what to do with me most of the time. </p><p>“You didn’t,” I say.</p><p>“But what if I did, Baz? What if he never recovers?”</p><p>“You’re a hero, the one that comes in and saves the day,” I say. “You’re not a murderer, you do your best. You do better than anyone else, but you’re still only human, Snow.”</p><p>“I’m not a hero,” he says. He’s peering up at me, his chin jutting out. “I’m just a stupid kid.”</p><p>I meet his gaze and sneer. “You’re <em> my </em>hero, Simon.” </p><p>Snow doesn’t flinch or soften. For a moment, I think he’s going to take a swing at me—or bash his rock-hard head against mine (he’s got that look on his face). Instead he shoves his face into mine and kisses me.</p><p>I shove back. He crashes into me, and I take it. I don’t give an inch.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>Life has a strange way of moving on. Dad is still in the hospital. His brain may never fully recover and I feel sick with guilt over it. The doctors aren’t sure if he’ll be released or if they’ll have to admit him into a facility where he’ll be provided with proper care 24/7. I visit him often, though he doesn’t always realize I’m there. I cry sometimes, when I sit with him. I can’t help it. </p><p>Ebb’s identity was never released to the public. Her family filed a missing person’s report on her, which hurts. I don’t know how to reach out to them and tell them the truth. Or if I should. I don’t know what to do about it. Penny says that I should wait until I can find the right words for them. Maybe I will, it’d be the right thing to do, and it’d be the closure that we all need.</p><p>Penny’s also suggested that I go to therapy, but I’m not too sure about that.</p><p>I live with my grandma now, and she’s nice. She’s just excited to have me, and she dotes on me like there’s no tomorrow. I look a lot like her. She’s not really strict, but she has her rules and boundaries and they’re easy enough to follow. I don’t think she knows how to treat me, but that’s okay. We’re getting used to each other.</p><p>It’s strange, living somewhere where there’s always a home-cooked meal and someone asking me how my day’s been. A place where I’m expected to clean up after myself and I’m allowed to have my friends over without having to schedule it weeks in advance. </p><p>A perk of my new home is that it’s closer to Baz’s neighborhood. I can literally walk ten minutes and be at his house. He’s bedroom’s been moved into the basement since his stepmom is pregnant and Baz refuses to remain upstairs while there’s a baby, plus it’ll allow the new baby to be on the same floor as Baz’s parents. I sneak into Baz’s room a lot now; the basement has direct access to the driveway. Thanks to my Spidey-Sense we haven’t been caught (yet). </p><p>It’s nice, this thing that I have with Baz. I think I’m a little in love with him. I think I have been for a long time. Sometimes I randomly dance around him, because I can’t fucking help it. He calls me a dork, but I know that he enjoys the show. Also, I hope that he never breaks up with me, because I have no idea how he makes my web-shooters. </p><p>It’s summer now, so I spend a lot of my time web-slinging. Running on buildings and swinging  from impossible heights. I’ve stopped a few muggings and have helped get cats down from trees. It’s all good PR, I guess. (At least, according to Shepard, it is. He’s started a Spider-Man Instagram account and I’ve been on his podcast a few times.) I helped rescue people from a burning building. I got hit by a drone (that was embarrassing).</p><p>Currently, I’m sitting on the top of a high-rise, my feet dangling off the side of the building. I’m eating a churro that the guy who runs the food stand on the corner gave to me as a thank you for doing good deeds. I love churros. </p><p>The sky is a bright blue and the air is warm, and from up here I can’t hear the sound of traffic below. I’ve got a few minutes before I meet up with Penny, Agatha, and Baz for lunch. My backpack is resting by my side with my street clothes.</p><p>This summer has given me some time to reflect. The truth is, with great power does come great responsibility. And sometimes it’s scary. Sometimes the bad guy isn’t someone you want it to be. Sometimes good people get hurt and die. But you have to carry on. A few months ago, I never thought I’d be able to do any of this, and it’s made me realize that anyone can wear a mask. Anyone can do the right thing.  </p><p>I stand up, throwing on my bag before jumping from the roof. “Woohoooooo!” I shoot a web to a nearby building and do a flip in the air, because I can. Because it's fun. Because I'm Spider-Man.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come say hi to me on <strong><a href="https://xivz.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a></strong>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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